The strangest thing happened today. I met my first fan. Believe it or not a French tourist came into the office today wanting to take one of the posters I designed for the City Council's "Waterwise Campaign" that she has seen on the street earlier today, back to France to hang in her bathroom. How could I refuse? It is a great feeling to know that somewhere in central Europe there is a bit of work (I'd like to call it art) with my name on it that someone wanted strongly enough to track the designer down.
That, and ProDesign phoning me for an interview… All in all not a bad week.
29.11.04
23.11.04
update
I suppose I ought to fill you in. These last few weeks I have been exploring new things. Pushing limits. Seeing just how well oiled this machine really is.
The Molesworth Muster, if I haven't gone on about it enough already, was a whole heap of fun, despite hitting the wall about 3 hours in.
We drove in on the Friday night, 515 of us, and set up what I can only describe as a shanty town in the middle of nowhere. As the sun set the valley floor was lit with the subtle glow of backlit tents and gas cookers as competitors carbed-up for the race ahead.
Half-5 has never been my favorite time of day. I doubt it ever will. Even the sun creeping into a bluebird sky does little to improve my mood after a rather broken nights sleep that echoed with the rain on the tent walls. Give me a few hours, the colours brightening, the air warming and the prospect of a hefty dose of excitement things began to improve.
Not having done much training, (ok, I'll be entirely honest: not having done any training) I decided to take it easy and see how the first hill felt; but a third of the way up I was overtaken by a young whipper-snapper and that was it. In hot pursuit I zoomed my way to the top feeling like a million dollars (which in the current exchange market can just about buy you a large popcorn at the cinema). A super-sketchy loose gravel downhill and I was away. So much for easy street. The legs kicked into gear and away I zoomed. In retrospect the zooming might have been a much a bit soon. I have never been much of a middle ground guy. It's all or nothing. So after three hours giving it my all in the hot and dusty mountains there was nothing left and all the overtaking I have done was then undone. I kept the delirium away by cheering myself on until Hamner popped into view. One last roller-coaster downhill planted with rocks that could eat a small child and I was free from the saddle of pain. 4 hours and 22 minutes. The bike is still in bits in the garage. I am not really that tempted to get on yet.
This weekend couldn't have been more different. Nelson was playing host to "Flat Out". An Ultimate Frisbee beach competition with over 100 players from all over the country. Including a certain Englishman. Any excuse to go to Nelson. It never disappoints me. This was no exception.
7 games on the first day meant that by the end I had a much better clue what the hell I was doing, and what I should be doing. But these legs don't do much running normally, and certainly not barefoot on the beach, which if you haven't done it, and I mean really done it, comes as something as a shock.
The second day had us (Evil Green) play another 5 games, by which time some of the muscles in my body that had decided they would keep a low profile a few years back jumped up and began a large scale protest. We didn't win. In fact we came last. But I do know that our team had the most fun on that beach. Team sculptures, chants and a whole host of games that I had never even imagined possible, and a bunch a new friends. So much help, support and advice. You guys rule. Thank you. This is a sport that rocks, just you wait till I nail my forehand. It is not the end of it.
The Molesworth Muster, if I haven't gone on about it enough already, was a whole heap of fun, despite hitting the wall about 3 hours in.
We drove in on the Friday night, 515 of us, and set up what I can only describe as a shanty town in the middle of nowhere. As the sun set the valley floor was lit with the subtle glow of backlit tents and gas cookers as competitors carbed-up for the race ahead.
Half-5 has never been my favorite time of day. I doubt it ever will. Even the sun creeping into a bluebird sky does little to improve my mood after a rather broken nights sleep that echoed with the rain on the tent walls. Give me a few hours, the colours brightening, the air warming and the prospect of a hefty dose of excitement things began to improve.
Not having done much training, (ok, I'll be entirely honest: not having done any training) I decided to take it easy and see how the first hill felt; but a third of the way up I was overtaken by a young whipper-snapper and that was it. In hot pursuit I zoomed my way to the top feeling like a million dollars (which in the current exchange market can just about buy you a large popcorn at the cinema). A super-sketchy loose gravel downhill and I was away. So much for easy street. The legs kicked into gear and away I zoomed. In retrospect the zooming might have been a much a bit soon. I have never been much of a middle ground guy. It's all or nothing. So after three hours giving it my all in the hot and dusty mountains there was nothing left and all the overtaking I have done was then undone. I kept the delirium away by cheering myself on until Hamner popped into view. One last roller-coaster downhill planted with rocks that could eat a small child and I was free from the saddle of pain. 4 hours and 22 minutes. The bike is still in bits in the garage. I am not really that tempted to get on yet.
This weekend couldn't have been more different. Nelson was playing host to "Flat Out". An Ultimate Frisbee beach competition with over 100 players from all over the country. Including a certain Englishman. Any excuse to go to Nelson. It never disappoints me. This was no exception.
7 games on the first day meant that by the end I had a much better clue what the hell I was doing, and what I should be doing. But these legs don't do much running normally, and certainly not barefoot on the beach, which if you haven't done it, and I mean really done it, comes as something as a shock.
The second day had us (Evil Green) play another 5 games, by which time some of the muscles in my body that had decided they would keep a low profile a few years back jumped up and began a large scale protest. We didn't win. In fact we came last. But I do know that our team had the most fun on that beach. Team sculptures, chants and a whole host of games that I had never even imagined possible, and a bunch a new friends. So much help, support and advice. You guys rule. Thank you. This is a sport that rocks, just you wait till I nail my forehand. It is not the end of it.
9.11.04
exibition and things
10 days on I seem to have been healing quite nicely. I even got a good 55km road-ride in the other day in preparation for the big event. I have to admit that it seems a little out of my league, but what-the-hell. If my brother can ride across America I am pretty sure I can deal with a day in the hills. Right?
Christchurch, like most places in the world, is now decorated in its Christmas regalia (it is November after all) ,and, although usually not one to be that Christmassy more than 2 weeks before the event, my tune has changed this year. I imagine this is more to do with the fluttering of my banners from hundreds of flag poles around the garden city than anything else. I like to think of it as my first exhibition, anonymous though it is.
Christchurch, like most places in the world, is now decorated in its Christmas regalia (it is November after all) ,and, although usually not one to be that Christmassy more than 2 weeks before the event, my tune has changed this year. I imagine this is more to do with the fluttering of my banners from hundreds of flag poles around the garden city than anything else. I like to think of it as my first exhibition, anonymous though it is.
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